


just stay for one more word

by loonyloopyluna



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alix is a Bitter Nut, Childhood Friends, Lack of Communication, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopyluna/pseuds/loonyloopyluna
Summary: The worst kinds of friendships are the ones that fizzle out without any real closure.





	just stay for one more word

Alix had heard enough short jokes to last a lifetime. Too many people had made comments about her height, and especially about the amount of pure rage distilled in such a small body. But she didn't think herself a particularly angry person. 

Sure, she was stubborn. And while she didn't seem to care about much, she was passionate about a few important things. She held a grudge list that could be scribbled on the palm of her hand. But one thing that struck her, irritated her to her very core, was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Was it really too much to ask for her best friend--for six years!--to acknowledge her existence? Even if Marinette didn't want to be close anymore. There were experiences you share with someone that just can't be erased. They form a bond between two people, an intimacy created through shared memories and life experience, that time can't erase. They'd ridden the metro without an adult for the first time--together. They broke one of Alix’s father’s antique vases and gotten in trouble--together. They'd shared sandwiches, clothes, and their first kiss. When Alix's mother died, she was the only one that stayed. Marinette seemed to forget all of it.

And that was what made Alix’s blood boil. Not only was their friendship over; Marinette wanted to act like it had never even happened to begin with.

Marinette was always the problem solver. Alix was the impulsive one, who broke all the rules in her haste, and Marinette was the one who carefully taped the pieces back together.

Problem: Marinette had a cool new friend. The new girl, with soft hair and big hazel eyes and an empty seat next to her. Problem: Alix clearly wasn’t going to get along with the new girl. They were both stubborn, in their own ways. Alya was a forest fire; Alix was a glacier. Problem: Marinette had both. She had to pick one.

Solution: Cut off the loser friend. Say goodbye to six years of history for a chance at a fresh opportunity with something new and exciting. Sit next to the new girl, share a treat, a smile, a handshake, and move forward.

Maybe they could have all been friends. A terrible trio; id, ego, superego. But Alix was too confused in those first weeks to realize what was really happening, spent most of her time pumping her new seat mate for information about the new heroes and listening to her gush about anything she happened to think about. And those few weeks cemented the way of thing from then on. Alya knew her as the weird, quiet, short kid with pink hair and no manners. Marinette didn't do anything to change her mind. And Alix couldn't.

She still remembered, though, how things had been before. A cheesier person might have said she pined after her lost best friend. Alix didn't do confrontation; it was too much effort. So she stared at Marinette, hoping the sheer force and venom in her gaze would be enough to make her sorry for what she did. Because she didn't miss it, any more. She had a new group she fell right into, with Mylene and Ivan and Kim and Max. Marinette no longer had a place in her life, just like she wanted.

But Kubdels hold grudges. It's what they do; it must be genetics or something, because both her parents were notoriously stubborn, and Jalil was kind of a doormat, so that saved all the stubbornness for her.

There were days when she would open her closet and pull out the box full of Marinette stuff and go through it, reading through the notes and trying to squeeze her tiny hands through the even-tinier friendship bracelets and breathing in the sweetly stale scent of cheap, dusty lip gloss. She thought about giving the box to Marinette some days, to bring closure to this whole friendship that had been led along a dark hallway without shutting the door completely. Some days she would even think of saying “no hard feelings” as she slid the box on Marinette’s desk, hardly pausing as she made her way to her own seat, across the aisle. Nothing sad nor irritated nor particularly joyful; just putting an end to this thing that had been left open in hopes that… what? It might be brought back one day? Or was each hoping for the other to make some final, decisive move?

Alix had moved on. Definitely. But she still couldn't even look at Marinette without feeling a pang of righteous indignation. With all the time and energy wasted on her, Alix--even if it hadn't been an explicit expectation--thought it might be mutual. That Marinette worried about Alix, who she'd been so close with but then left on such uncertain and ambiguous terms. She might be scared of what Alix might say, of what history might crop up, anything. But time and time again it was proved that six years had meant nothing, and were easily forgotten.

The first clue was on her birthday. Quite possibly the best and worst days of Alix’s life, in one. She got a beautiful, incredible, amazing watch, and her mind was half on the race as she instead considered all that might await her when she got home and could examine it further. Then, suddenly, it was tumbling, tumbling, into her path. And just like that its secrets, its mystery, its novelty--gone forever. She saw Marinette’s empty hand grasping to where the mangled watch lay and she  _ knew,  _ somehow. But it was clear Marinette was more upset about the watch being ruined than about upsetting Alix. And why should she care? They weren't friends. When Alix stormed away, Marinette followed but her heart wasn't in it and she barely gave it half an effort before her phone rang and something more important called her away.

One day, in the spring, Alix saw a friendship bracelet she has made years ago, out in the open once more. But it wasn't with Marinette.

She remembered the day they'd made them, still. Her mother had hauled out a bracelet-making kit and set them up in a corner of her office as she worked. Alix and Marinette has made each other friendship bracelets but couldn't get the slippery strings tied, so they tucked them in their pockets and went to explore the building. The elevator stalled between two floors on their way down to the basement, and they would have been trapped if Marinette hadn't bumped against the emergency button while trying to find it and pushing the wrong one accidentally. Then they'd found two coins on the stairs on their way back up. Marinette’s parents came to pick her up that night and she proudly showed off the lucky charm her best friend Alix had made for her.

And now it was dangling off the strap of Adrien’s book bag.

Truth be told, Alix didn't even recognize it at first, beyond an initial glimmer of vague recognition, but she brushed that off by reasoning it had always been there, and that day was the first time she had taken explicit notice. She would have put it out of mind completely, if Nino hadn't said anything.

“Adrien! Sweet keychain, dude.”

Adrien had fingered the strap of his bag. “Oh, thanks. Marinette gave it to me! It's her lucky charm. I meant to give it back to her before the tournament, but that whole thing was kind of a mess, so…”

And again, that wave of irrational anger swept over her. Marinette. Of course.

Without a word, Alix got up and walked to the bathroom. Her pace was measured, her hat pulled low; at a passing glance, nothing looked wrong. It was only her white-knuckled fists held stiffly at her side, and the stony-eyed glare of barely-held tears that would give her away if anyone stopped her to talk.

She checked to see if the bathroom was empty, then locked herself in a stall, finally letting the tears fall in an ugly, angry mess. Frustration was no longer the word for it, but she didn't know what was. Nostalgia, depression. Loneliness. 

If that was it, she was lonely for something that maybe never even was, and definitely couldn't come back.

“Hello?” a voice asked tentatively, and Alix froze. She said nothing, did nothing except draw her sleeve across her cheeks in the hope of cleaning up.

“Is everything all right?” the other girl continued.

“I’m fine,” Alix grunted. She looked down and saw the tips of two feet peeking at her underneath the stall door. She’d recognize those pink ballet flats anywhere.

“Alix?” Marinette pressed on.

Alix scowled and pounded her fist against the stall door. Marinette lurched back in surprise, and Alix drew the lock back, opening the door a crack. Their eyes locked. Ages ago, they’d gotten questions whether they were related; when they had the same dark hair, the same baby cheeks, the same icy blue eyes. Alix used that to her advantage, used a glare as frigid as she could muster.

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> editing??? sleep???? idk them ://


End file.
